


Lothario

by Ladycat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He's a rake," Rodney explains, pompous while John bites his ear, then blows on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lothario

Rodney's had a lot of sex before. He knows that no one is going to think that, looking at him now, but he has: not just multiple partners, but _types._ Encounters that came from hate and anger so rich that they'd bitten each others lips as they'd kissed, leaving redden prints that darkened blue and black and glossy as they'd rutted against a wall. Rodney's pretty sure Dr. Weaver had had abrasions on her back for almost a week after that. He doesn't feel guilty; he didn't then either.

He's had loving sex, with Janet, the one woman Rodney ever thought he might marry, the only one to never demand anything from him except when she'd asked for everything he had. He's had casual sex with friends, with strangers, scenes that he's quite sure would scare the eyebrows off of everyone he works with.

Most especially Elizabeth. Sometimes Rodney thinks about telling her some of his more... clandestine encounters, the ones that sometimes feel far away and belonging to another person. Mostly he wants to shock her, but also something more. Elizabeth needs the pure release of giving herself over to someone completely, the relaxation of never making a decision for at least a brief time, the emptiness that comes to mean _joy_.

Rodney knows he himself makes a far better dom than sub, but there are always exceptions to every rule, anomalies that have to be accounted for. He's learned to see them in himself, the way he checks his blood pressure and logs how many headaches he has and where the pain radiates from. He sees it in her.

Some nights he thinks about offering.

But for all the sex he's had, all the sex he's thought about and fantasized about, all the sex he's pursued with single-minded determination -- he can't remember sex like this.

Oh, he's sure that it's just a trick of the mind, the way light seems like it's bending around them, cocooning them away from reality. Later on he'll remember other times his body felt so completely weightless, no longer an extension he has to focus to control, but something that _is_ , responding to his thoughts the way Ancient tech does, effortless and easy.

He'll remember smiling so hard his cheeks hurt, a pain his brain registers without really experiencing. He'll remember laughing so hard he snorts, staring down at a spikey head of hair that washes back and forth over his stomach, tickling him.

"Oh, my god, you really are insane," Rodney says -- laughs, really -- helpless with John wrapped firmly around his legs and hips, pinning him to the bed. John is surprisingly comfortable for a man as muscley and boney as he looks, full of unexpected pockets of fleshy softness and a supple easiness that Rodney can’t understand enough to envy.

"Are you mocking my technique, McKay?"

"Technique? You're _tickling me with your hair_. That's not technique, that's sheer, stupidity." But he says it with a smile so wide he feels like he could break open, lose his mind to the wide open forever and never care about anything but the grin he sees in eyes gone leaf-green where they aren't black as night, a mouth open and curved to show the unnaturally straight, white teeth that John doesn’t show anyone else.

God, John is _beaming_ at him, star-touched and glorious because he’s never done this before, not in three years of knowing him, and it’s all Rodney’s, not just because of him but _for_ him.

Rodney’s staring, he knows it, but John takes the change in mood without a hitch, mouth twisting into a smirk that doesn’t have a trace of the irony that normally wraps around John like a hug. He ducks down, fast as a snake, and suddenly it’s not just hair, but John’s _stubble_ , pin-prick scrapes that should probably hurt as they skid over his hips, his stomach, the soft rise that becomes his cock, but don't. There’s no pain, just sensation that makes him squirm and laugh, helpless as a child and just as artlessly elated.

"This is Atlantis' Lothario," he chokes out. 

"Pretty sure I never called myself that," John denies lazily. He pushes himself upward, kissing the red lines of where his chin and cheeks have been, licking a particularly verdant patch quiet before he makes his way further up. It’s not exploration, not anymore. Rodney doesn’t know what it is, but there’s a sense of endurance, of repeatability in it that makes his heart beat faster.. "Pretty sure I don't know what Lothario means. Is it a good thing?"

Rodney could hit him, if he had feeling in his arms. Instead he tilts his head up for the kiss he knows is coming, warm and oddly sweet for all they're both naked, sweaty and hard, twisting around each other like fuzzy pipe-cleaners from Rodney's childhood, impossible to tell where one became two, colors as seamlessly blended as the individual strands.

"He's a rake," Rodney explains, pompous while John bites his ear, then blows on it. God, John is _eager_ , almost gleeful as he shifts and moves, his touches rising and falling like the tide, predictable except in the way they never, ever are. "He's a -- a -- "

"Slut?" John offers. He bites again, hanging on just long enough to hear Rodney gasp out a moan, panting too hard to sustain it for long. "A guy who gets around?"

"Yes?" It's a question, though, because hearing it like this, feeling it on skin that tastes like salt and musk, like the ocean, but with a warmth no water can ever imitate, he knows it's not true.

If John's ever been like this with someone else... but Rodney knows he hasn’t, feels it in bones that hum with Atlantis’ referred pleasure, knows it the way he knows math, knows the crystalline certainty of science.

John is giving him a gift, handed over with a nervousness Rodney knows only because he can feel it slowly leaving, residue fading with every second he accepts, gives back.

"Well, that's a good thing for you, isn't it?" John growls in his ear, low and rough and sounding exactly like a mouth that wraps around his cock and sucks, eager and talented. "Because it means I know what I'm doing."

And then John's there, mouth hot and voracious as it swallows Rodney down, his hands tight around Rodney's hips and thighs, and Rodney gets it, he _gets_ it. John is proving himself, wowing Rodney who is never wowed by anything without needing to conquer it, and it's all backward, all wrong --

And then it isn’t, pieces clicking neatly into places as John looks up at him, Rodney looking down, and they’re _laughing_ , both of them for all it’s only Rodney’s voice that fills the room. Rodney reaches out, tugging and twisting, the bed suddenly a tangle of limbs and torso, John's cock banging into his sternum and neck before he's finally where he should be. Now the noises are pressed in the softness of John’s cock, the salt that fills his mouth and mind, a circuit of something Rodney's never had before, never known he was missing because the idea that he might have this is something he's never allowed himself to contemplate.

But here, given before he can even hope for it... Rodney's had sex in every position, every variation, but he's never had sex with someone he loves before.

And never been with someone who loves him.

Later, when they're both sated, still smiling and tumbling together like puppies because they can't stop poking, fingers and words both, barbs that never pierce, never hurt, Rodney smothers himself over John's body, kissing and kissing and kissing him because he doesn't have the words. He never has, and for the first time, knows he doesn’t need them. Here, now, like this -- John hears it with each brush of their skin, each taunting comment, giving everything back and more.


End file.
